Every person has a train of thought on which they travel when they are alone. The dignity and nobility of their life, as well as their happiness depend upon the direction in which that train is going, the baggage it carries and the scenery through which it travels.
I should have said something. . . . But my mouth wouldn't open, and the longer I stood there in silence, the better I can to understand the problem. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to him. It was that I had too much to say.